


The long stretch

by ramblingAnthropologist



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: M/M, Mass Effect 1, Pre-Relationship, When the going gets tough the tough get tall people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-26 02:48:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16673281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ramblingAnthropologist/pseuds/ramblingAnthropologist
Summary: Commander Alistair Shepard is many things. Tall is not one of them. One day, he just needs a fucking hand without having to look like a tiny idiot. Luckily, there's a very tall alien who might be convinced to help. It's a win-win, isn't it?(Pre-relationship, Mass Effect 1. Set between Meeting 1.5 and Parting 1 in Meeting and Parting timeline.)Day 26 of Inktober - Stretch





	The long stretch

**Author's Note:**

> Here, have some more gay Shakarian. I haven't gotten to Meeting and Parting yet, it's nano. You'll get it for the December holidays if I can keep up. 
> 
> Once again, this was Inktober and I like admiring turian asses.

Ok, whoever put that damn box on the highest shelf was going to get the worst shift when he finished up.

Of course ,if he ever finished up was the problem. From the floor, Alistair scowled as he craned his neck as much as he could. Far above his head was the box he needed to finish what he was working on. And in the small space, there was no chance of a ladder.

“Damn it.”

Alistair scowled as he stretched out to his full height of 5'4” and some change. However, he still had far too much distance to cover to reach it. In the end, falling nearly face first into the shelf in front of him ended his second attempt at reaching it.

By now his options were small. He could try to float the box down with his biotics or enlist the help of someone much taller than himself. All of the Normandy’s crew was immediately discounted. Those assholes would find it funny. Even Bo would look far too pleased if he asked her to come in and lend a hand. That meant that option was out.

So… all that was left was the biotics.

Alistair could already hear the voice of the angry man who had trained him in biotic basics as he powered up – don’t use it for something stupid. That blew to the wayside as his fingers tingled and his eyes glowed a light blue. He did remember what they said as he focused the energy towards the box and then wrapped it around. After that, it was a tug and -

It didn’t move.

“Fuck.” Alistair’s eyes stopped glowing and the rush of a low blood sugar reminded him just how stupid that had been. “Must be made of something non-reactive.”

He scowled as his head swam. So much for that. All he could do was grab for some emergency sugar and try to formulate a new plan when his brain started to work again. If stretching hadn’t worked and neither had biotics, well, he was kind of running out of options.

Maybe he would just have to bite the mass effect propelled bullet and get Bo to help him.

Sighing, Alistair got up when he could feel his tongue again. He cast one last glance up to the box before turning away to leave the store room. Now he was back on the crew deck and looking for someone tall enough to help. Well, the first part was easy – marines were fucking huge – but finding one who wouldn’t chuckle when their tiny commanding officer asked for aid was another. That narrowed things down.

Fuck.

“Problem, Shepard?”

A flanged, translated voice was somewhere off to his blind side. However, there was only one person on the Normandy that sounded like that. The blood threatened to rush to Alistair’s cheeks as he turned his entire body in the direction that the voice was coming from. It only got worse when he was finished.

Garrus. Great. A new way to make an ass out of himself.

The turian was in the process of wiping off his talons with a rag. From the looks of things, he had just finished working on some tiny part of the Mako that had broken during the last ground mission. His face was neutral, or at least he thought it was. Aliens were still kind of hard to read, but he wasn’t hissing or holding a gun at his head so that was good enough for the new Spectre.

Well… he was tall. Over 7 feet tall, if Alistair was measuring right. Why not?

He tried to keep his voice level, though his face still felt on fire. “Oh, yeah. Can’t read a box that I need to finish up a project. Somebody put it on the top shelf and the room’s too small to get a ladder in.”

Garrus’ face remained neutral. “Aren’t you a biotic?”

Now Alistair was definitely blushing. “Box is non-reactive. I already tried that.”

An awkward handful of seconds passed there as human and turian kept standing there, staring at each other. Garrus opened his mouth to say something, but then he closed it and his mandibles wiggled uselessly. Was that a turian sign of admitting defeat? Alistair hadn’t seen that one before in the short time he had been on the Normandy. Maybe it was a good sign.

“Do you… need help?”

There was a question there. Despite their awkward beginning, Garrus was ready to help. It was a bonus that he wasn’t Alliance and that he was a 7 foot tall alien. To him, all humans except the Normandy’s XO were short. It was perfect.

Plus… getting to watch him work was nice.

Alistair grinned sheepishly as he nodded. “Yeah, that be great. It’s over here.”

Garrus followed behind him to the store room in question. The damn box was still there, far above his head but well within the turian’s reach. He didn’t even have to go on his toes – could turians even do that? He had definitely never seen it – to reach it. Instead, out went his long arms and the box was soon in his possession.

All the while, Alistair was in the back watching. Out of armor it was easier to watch the other man work. His strange muscles flexed with surprising grace, from his thin arms to his powerful looking back. Plus there was the ass. That was nice too, and perfectly within range for a human to grab on. Not… that he would. That would be rude, and he barely knew the guy. Besides, relations between their species was… bad.

Best not to incite even more of a diplomatic nightmare – Palaven was probably still pissed about Saren.

“Here you go.”

Garrus put the box into his arms with a light thump that was more him than the weight. Then he walked out of the room and back to where he had been finishing up with the Mako. Alistair watched him go, unable to keep the blush off his face.

Damn, that man was attractive. Too bad he had blown his chances with slamming straight into him back on the Presidium. Oh well, maybe he could just admire the view.

“… Shit, right. Chakwas needs these.”

He shook his head. Back down to Earth – or as close as he could get on an Alliance freighter in the middle of Council space – it was. So, Alistair sighed and went back to work. After all, someone needed this.

At least he had gotten to enjoy the view.


End file.
